


Sleepless Nights

by AUsedMattress



Category: Party Hard (Video Game)
Genre: Novelization, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-05 00:21:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11566437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AUsedMattress/pseuds/AUsedMattress
Summary: [Nothing too different here other than different bits and or pieces are added on. Follows the base game excluding the DLC.]The time is April, 2000. Spring time, and college students along with their friends of all ages are all out and about. Going around to different parties all over the neighborhood. High on illegal substances and slammed on cheap alcohol, what could go wrong? A massacre by one man, that is. Inspector John West of the North Beach Police Department is the Officer in Command of the Party Hard Killings. A group of mass murders taking part all around the United States by a man in a mask wielding a knife. Adventuring from his local town to eventually out of state, he does his best to stop the serial killer from leaving the party completely dead. What he doesn't know, is that the murderer was only a few footsteps away- each and every time.





	1. In the Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Hi.
> 
> Oh gosh, I'm nervous to post this but I've been wanting to write this for such a long time. So I hope you guys enjoy this!! Some things may change, some may not. I dunno yet. I've also made the decision to make JW and Darius one person. Originally I was going to split them up into two since that's how I first saw them but ehhh. Oh well. Enjoy and I apologize for any errors as this was written on an ipad. :^)

Strong, violent beats vibrate the walls, the windows. The night itself is quiet, low fog in the area with hints of loud party-goers roaming around. Their noise, the lights from their accessories made the spirit of the evening thrive on. It seemed like the party was growing endless. The beats became louder, vibrating objects and collectibles off shelves. In some moments, they were softer thumps but other times created a disaster enough for it to seem like a minor earthquake had occurred. It kept waking up the gentleman for the evening- every evening. These parties, they go on for days and days at a time. It is the end of April in the year 2000 after all here in North Beach, and it isn’t a surprise college kids were running around at late hours claiming the night with their irrelevant banter. Alcoholic drinks in hand, illegal substances in their system. If they were looking for trouble, they didn’t have to search far to stir up problems.

One particular party began no more than four hours ago next to a rundown apartment complex. There had to be a good sixty to seventy souls there all at once. The cracks of the opened blinds were no stranger to this kind of event. But this night, something is going to change, and change for the better. Should he do it?

Tossing and turning in a single bed, the room is well-lit due to the broken blinds. Barely hanging on from one side. The other had fallen off because of an accident when the item connected with a pair of heavy-duty boots. The lights flashing outside ever so brightly. They sparkled against every inch of texture, every surface, even above the gentleman’s third-story apartment. It made it unbearable to sleep in. It doesn’t make sense to sleep in the living room if that area is already being used for materials for work. Too much paper work, and too many empty bottles of whiskey. There was a loud crash shortly after, followed by a bunch of laughter. Seems like this particular group is getting out of control. It’s time to do something.

The digital clock sitting on his dresser read three in the morning in neon green coloring, the alarm buzzing loudly waking up its patients as intended. A lazy arm was thrown on top of the clock, shutting it down from all the excessive noise- the man made sure to avoid that snooze button as he wouldn’t need it for tonight. In a flash, he got out of his single bed, standing closely with the shadows as he peered over the transparent window. Sheets lazily tossed to the side, the bed remaining undone. He’ll come crawling back to it then when the party settles down. Standing and staring out the window, he opened his eyes wide, checking the view. Enough is enough with this racket, and the authorities themselves are useless to stop these parties. There’s too many going on at once. In a nightstand on the other side of the room, there was an item he’ll use as a partner.

No thoughts scrolled through his sleep-deprived mind. Legs moved on their own, and so did those arms and hands. They went to open the top drawer with no hesitation. The contents inside were as one would expect- medication, scraps of paper and a protective sexual wrapper. He probably wasn’t awake yet as the item he was searching for was on top of the drawer- a mostly plastic, white mask with four distinctive dark ovals on the bottom half with no more than a few inches for spacing. It had a leather band on both sides towards the top, wanting to be connected ever so violently. Picking up this mask with his right hand, his thumb graced the surface, touching the smoothness of it. No questioning, no words. Swiftly heading to the closet, the man searched through the darkness.

_Don’t turn on the lights, they’ll know what’s going on_. Nah- they’re drunk, they’re probably on something at the same time. They probably don’t know their lefts to their rights. Swinging the mirrored closet door open, there was a navy dress shirt he had once used for a wedding for a co-worker years ago. Seeing how he hasn’t changed much physically, it was going to be perfect. Snatching that item, he also reached for a pair of black slacks. The outfit was complete with a black wife beater, a pair of boxes, black socks and black dress shoes. With this mask, they’ll never know it’s him. He’ll fit right in.

One by one, the article of clothing appeared on his body while getting dressed in the only bathroom he had available. With no windows the light was on at full force. There’s products on the countertop with connections to his hair, his teeth, or wanting some body spray. It wasn’t terribly neat but he knew exactly what he could do with it and where everything is. He didn’t do with much effort for his hair, as it already was a mess thanks to its brilliant designer- the bed. The last thing to do before descending down to the ground level is to place on the mask. Gracing down at it for a moment, he turned the item over and having it slowly over against his face. The back side first touched his nose, placing it on with his head down. Both hands grasp at the leather band, securing them tightly to make sure his identity isn't easily discovered. Picking that head back up, he stared silently in the mirror. Brown eyes stared on.

Party ready, fit for an event of the ages. He nodded towards the image in the mirror. These actions weren’t his, he could hear thoughts. Those of his own, but they weren’t responding back. Someone was taking over him, everything he began afterwards was not like his own words, or gestures. It was somebody else’s. Before leaving the home, he went into the kitchen and into a drawer that was known as the ‘junk’ drawer. Picking out a knife he had recently had found while at work, it was the perfect object to proceed the silence.

Exiting his apartment, the dressed man in the mask went down two flights of stairs. On ground level, he was only a fence away from the closest party near him. There was a small get together in a one-story home. That’ll be the first target. Forget about the huge party going on doors away, nobody will suspect a thing if he were to hit up the smaller one- he was sure they wouldn’t be missed much anyway. Or, at all.

The knife is in hand, holding it tightly in his dominant right hand. He left the common grounds of his apartment complex. There is one thing that’s leading him onward, and that’s to enjoy and experience the silence again. It wasn't long, about ten minutes or so as he appeared in the middle of the street facing towards a home with an opened garage door. There was one woman, and three men- middle aged sitting on their driveway on plastic, ugly moss green lawn chairs. Beer cans in their hands as they laughed on casually. They weren’t the ones that woke him up, but it’ll be enough to start with.

Mask on, and his weapon in his sleeve, the nameless individual moves on. They don’t notice him at first, still joking yet laughing about their own matters. Given something about family or something that had happened to one of them previously. He was quiet at first, but made sure to hide behind a nearby gray truck parked by the curb of their home. One of them sips on their beer can delicately, trying to hold back any potential laughter from the friendly banter. He waited for what it seemed like hours, when only it was seconds. Moving from the street by the truck, he soon moved to the front of the vehicle. There, he made it clear: do it now, or throw your life by some pig-like cop patrolling the richer side of the neighborhoods who has nothing better to do.

_One_. The masked individual moved on. He was swift in his delivering, making sure he tackled one of the men. Banishing the weapon of truth from his right sleeve, he delivered a blow violently the man’s exposed neck. The first couple slashes were the most satisfying, the crimson splashed onto that bone-white mask decorating it with fresh, new colors. There was thoughts of confusion and soon, yelling. A loud yell from everyone involved. The woman dropped her beer can, getting up immediately and tried running into the home to dial for the authorities. The masked one didn't want that, and when his current victim wasn’t moving, he went in for her. She did her best to run in her pastel pink moo-moo. Sandals on her feet created a clapping noise each time she took a step against her heel. She was close towards the inside of the home when a violent strike had stricken straight in the upper back. A bloody, loud scream. _Goddamn, the silence is still so far away_. He removed the knife, and stabbed her in a different region against her back. There was no way he was going to let this fail. Too many nights of having this occur, it had to be put to an end. For good.

_Two_. The second to last victim clutched onto his beer can, and tossed it towards the murderer presented in front of him. Turning around, the man ducked his head down in case it had made contact with his mask, it instead hit his shoulder as he tried to block it. The can splashed its contents all over his shoulder, causing a navy dress shirt to eventually turn a darker shade of blue. His hands and knife are already covered in the victim’s crimson. The blade dropped when his striking arm wasn’t in stance, the blood pouring towards the cement floor of the garage. The other two were shaking, and burst towards two different directions. The masked one wanted the individual who had chucked the can first, who was making a dash towards the truck he was casually behind for just seconds. _Easy_.

Running track in high school must of given him an edge here, as he was easily able to catch the gentleman. He wasn’t going to hold his victims and make them beg for their life. They had already made their decision for the loud noise. For being up after three-thirty in the morning, making noise for those who already work an impossible job. He slashed at his victim where he stood between the truck and the open street. It wasn’t a busy one thankfully, but it also meant he had no audience to view what he was doing. To strike the fear of a higher power into those who deserved it. They tried blocking with their wrists and unfortunately, those were the masked man’s target. He went for the vital veins in those arms, making sure the victim wouldn’t survive this ordeal. Crimson swinging from the bottom of the mask onto anything it could get its hands on.

If he was truly heartless, he would of done things with a firearm. But what’s the fun in that if the men can’t defend themselves? Beer cans aren’t a weapon, silly men.

_Three_. The last victim was yelling to alert the neighborhood. Trying to wake them up at this deadly hour to get some help. Someone might of heard, but because of all the college and high school parties that were going on at the time and since the middle of April, they were out of luck. If the neighbors were going to call the police, it would be for disturbing the peace. Unfortunately for the murderer, he was running short of breath. Sweat drops beaded at this forehead dropping down shortly after towards his slick sick. Sweat was pressed against the mask and his eyebrows. He could feel it, but if he can get this last individual for the night, he would call this night a success. The last one ran quite fast though. It was going to be difficult to try and get him. But like all things in life, what must come up, must come down. The murderer got his break when the man collapsed on a stranger’s yard only six houses down. This is just too easy now. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to say anything at all. Scrambling to get back onto his feet, the last victim couldn’t do it. His feet were twisted, the adrenaline was too much.

_Tick. Tock._

It wasn't long until the man was confronted with the murderer. There could've been, or there could of been absolutely nothing. It was difficult to tell. Crimson splattered onto his mask and onto his opened chest. Fresh blood dripping down as the dress shirt absorbed most of it. He didn’t say much as the victim said his last words. Those words must of dropped out as he couldn’t hear them much longer when a blow had landed against the skull of the soon-to-be deceased man. Plopped on top of the man, the beginning of the knife plowed against the victim’s ear, and pierced his skull with ease. There, he couldn’t of ever imagined of recovering back to his feet. Removing the blade from his victim’s skull, he looked around rather quickly before popping back onto his feet. There, he deposited the blade in its case into his breast pocket and made the peaceful walk home. Until. ...

He kept on the mask while he saw neighbors leaving their front porches, wondering what the hell had happened to their fellow neighbors. There’s a lot of blood on the scene, and four dead individuals. These weren’t the work of animals or humans- or so they think right now. Some were mentioning they had called the police already and that they were on their way. The man knew he had to make it home before he got in trouble with his job. After all, being an Inspector isn’t an easy job and it doesn’t take long for the police in this town to respond to a murder call. They’ll always show up for those.

With the crimson splattered against him and his person, he had to change his clothes immediately, throw on his uniform and get to the scene. Just as the masked man had fumbled for the keys for his apartment from his slack’s pockets, he was right on time for the landline to be ringing in the kitchen. Nobody else calls him at four in the morning unless there was some kind of situation going on and or they required back up. Approaching the phone on the walls, he flickered on a few lights then removed the mask quickly and set it on the counter top. Picking up the phone, there was a voice that was in quite a haste. They demanded for the masked man to arrive at the address where the others are as soon as possible. They mentioned there is a murderer that may be on the run to get more victims. He nodded to himself, then gave the okay and soon hung up the phone.

Going to his bedroom, the murderer picked out his uniform from the same closet where he obtained his formal wears. He was quick to clean the crimson off of his hands, chest, face and other parts of the body with some heavy-duty chemical cleaners. They weren’t safe for the skin, but he knew it was able to clean off the blood. Blood. Wait, he can hear himself think again. Peering around in the bathroom, he looked down to his hands. They were in front of him, spread out and still wet with drops of liquid falling into the sink below. Stretching out his fingers a few times, he realized that this was actually him again. The thoughts weren't hiding anymore, or blocked off. He remembers who he is, what he does for a living. Where he lives and who is his family. When the phone rang again in the kitchen, he knew he had to leave. Putting on his hat, he poured out of the only bathroom.

Before descending back outside, he had stood by the front door. The kitchen lights were the only one, and he could see a sheet over someone sleeping on a smaller couch in his living room. Despite having piles of papers and evidence all over the place, he saw that the person who decided to stay the night to study for finals was still here. It was a woman. Dark-oak like hair color, in a messy bun with the multi-toned grayscale sheet covering her figure. Her back-side showing towards the man. The murderer and the woman have a relationship- father and daughter. He signed, quietly closing the door as he left, locking it from the outside.

Since the violent scene had happened so closely, the man decided to walk to the location. A good ten to fifteen minutes because of the local community, other police stations from different parts of the city. And the media trying to get some information and leads as into what happened. There was men, women, teenagers and some children out in their pajamas, too. Rumors were quick to spawn within the group of strangers, but the Inspector knew better. Yellow caution tape separated the amateurs from the professionals. Making his way through the crowd with ease (with the help of him flashing out his badge), he saw a co-worker gesturing them for some information. As they pointed out different possibilities and eyewitness reports from those who may of been on the scene in the first place, the cop asked for a notepad and pen from another co-worker.

Jotting down different bits of information, anything will help to get this killer arrested. Their attack from the sounds of it was at random. He scribbled down a few notes here or there, sometimes looking up to see towards the crowd. It wasn’t like this man couldn’t of gotten out far. No traces of the weapon, or bloody footsteps. No fingerprints on anything. The investigation didn’t last too long, as the nearby college parties began to die down upon hearing the murders. Word must spread quickly around here, as hundreds of men and women marched down the street to view the scene. Some thought of it as a music video, or a film being shot in the making. It didn’t make sense though. Why would that happen at three in the morning? Heavy bags under the man’s eyes, aside from the crowd making noise, it was actually quiet.

He could possibly get some sleep, for now. At least when they’ve received all the info they can get it. Tearing out the notes he had written down, he handed the notepad and a writing device back to his co-worker. Commenting they will do a full report in the morning when everyone’s received some rest. Clearing out the hoards of people wasn’t easy for the others, but it didn’t matter. The Inspector said his good-byes to his fellow men and women as the paramedics tow one-by-one of the deceased bodies into the back of the ambulance. They arrived last, seeing how they couldn’t do much to save these people.

Ah, well. A case to figure out in the morning, given the info is legitimate. For now, it’s time to dim the lights, cover his person with thick, dark sheets and forget about it for now. If the killer was on the loose, the others are capable of apprehending the man for now.

_Oh, what little do they know._


	2. Autumn, 2000 - BBQ Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The murderer is out on the loose, and the local police force are currently searching for this man. While the force reviews what's going on with those details, there's word spreading another party before school starts is going to happen. As the murderer 'gains' knowledge about it, he decides to pay a visit and dance with the high schoolers and college kids alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've been uh... Doing other things and awaiting for the arrival of the second game.

In his own personal vehicle, the Inspector shows up a little later than he would've liked to at the police station. In his passenger seat, there was some papers from the night before. Running on a small cup or two of coffee, he sighed. Bothered with phone calls since noon, writing more bits and information about the murderer. It just doesn’t make sense. _Why_ would someone randomly do this? There just isn't enough to continue on with this so early. But a murder here in North Beach for the first time in a long time, and happening for absolutely no reason at all means they have to do this. Thoughts were wandering, but there was a voice.

It was a voice that has long and followed the Inspector for many years. It’s always been here, it speaks up when it wants to. When his ears ring, he took a double-check of his surroundings. He sees civilians going in and out of the front doors of his workplace. There’s a few fellow officers from other cities resting against the hoods and side of their vehicle respectively, talking about the murders from the night previously. It was deemed safe to allow this voice to talk, with the Inspector making facial experiences to match it all. The voice didn’t say much at first, claiming that the night before all but a blur. Were they present, do they know?

Opening those lips, vocals spilled out. He questioned the voice, peering behind him for a quick moment. This is his own vehicle after all. A four-seater of a commonly found vehicle on the roads today. It’s a white vehicle with dirt all over. Getting him from point A to point B, it served its purpose, but still. There weren’t any other figures in this vehicle. It’s just him. When he tried to speak to the voice again, again verbally, there was nothing. This is definitely unusual, but with time running short on a meeting he was suppose to attend. The Inspector had to pause all his thoughts, gather the materials for the event and to wait on it for another time.

He’s hoping he’ll be back before dinner time. It’s a rare moment for his daughter to be visiting him despite their rather interesting, intense relationship.

Just outside of the room where the meeting was being held, he made sure he had all documents, papers, keys and wallet with him. His vehicle was locked, so he didn’t have to worry about the murderer coming on by and easily snatching the car. That would've been interesting twist. Something tells the Inspector that this wasn’t in the murderer’s nature. On his way towards the room, he was greeted with some of the men and women that were on the scene only hours ago. Some commenting that the Inspector really could use some more sleep. He complained it was all the college parties are going on all over the area. He ignored any other more irrelevant comments to make his way towards the door. There, he opened it and was greeted by some more of his colleagues.

His own boss was up, pointing to the whiteboard with a ruler. He made a comment about the man finally wanting to join them. Shrugging it off, he took an empty seat by the square, wooden table that was the only one available. At first, he was a bit jittery, and he couldn’t explain it to himself why. A million questions scrolled through his mind, unable to process what’s going on. When his name was called about what he could find, or what kind of steps they could possible take to solve this case, he surrendered the papers and information given to him. Stating there isn’t much, but he’s a middle-aged gentleman, wielding some kind of blade around six to eight inches long. Wearing dark clothes of hues of blue. Blending in with the crowds of that party

“... He may of be one of the men running around with the college groups. Probably drunk and or high on some kind of strong substance. Had a falling out with someone which can result in these kind of murders for these people.” Spoke the Inspector, concluding his thoughts and info.

“From the sounds of it, it could be someone out visiting from another town, another state. We don’t know yet- do not rush this,” replied his boss towards the group before him. “West. You’re in charge of this. North Beach hasn’t had a killing in years- we can’t understand why they would do it now. Probably an overzealous moron with nothing else to do but bring attention to himself.” With a few more words from his boss, the Inspector nodded along with his crew. The meeting was soon dismissed for the day.

Carrying his papers with him in a black leather binder that was left by his boss, West carried himself to his office. He had a small room in the back with his name, his accomplishments. It wasn’t often where he was bothered about little things. Sometimes they’re simple invites out to lunch. Or if they can double-check on the facts of another case. Rarely is it ever something that’s huge and requires most of the minds involved. But no, they allowed the man to resume what he was doing. He was working on another case, it wasn’t important. It didn't even have a human life involved. Unlocking the office door, he went into his office and locked it behind him. When the door was locked, most knew to leave West be. He sighed loudly.

The room itself is in the back of the building, one decent-size window on one wall. There was a single glass wall separating him from the others. The sides were heavy, dull bricks. He’s worked particularly hard to be in the position he’s in. Years of patrolling on the streets, sometimes able to oversee and solve other cases. North Beach only had one police station, but it was all they needed with a city that didn't have much crime to begin with. Pale, pastel blues pasted themselves against the non-glass walls. At the corners, some of it was bubbling up and wanting to peel off due to its age. In the middle of the room was a lavish, dark, wooden desk. There was a monitor on top of it, a green mat, followed by a desk lamp, a photo, name plate and some cards of local businesses around. From the center, there’s two, beige, tall filing cabinets, a low lightly-colored wooden bookcase containing different cases. Books and other files from the Inspectors before him. And lastly, there was four chairs. A main, comfortable, black leather chair by his desk, and three basic dirtied red fabric waiting room-style chairs. Two in front, and one by the wall by the door.

He placed the files on one of the waiting room chairs, looking at his place of operations. At least the blinds here functioned compared to his home. West, a single father was a stressed out individual. If he wasn’t working, he was drinking heavily at home. It wasn’t uncommon to see him roaming around intoxicated, but when it was one of the only things that put him to sleep due to the extremely loud parties happening around this time of year, it eventually became routine. Removing his hat, he shook his dark brown locks clean from the holding form it morphed into. He had placed that on top of the leather binder for a moment. Then slipped the binder from under the hat and placed it on the desk. Swinging around the area, he turned on the golden desk lamp, then took a seat. The leather chair squeezed as weight was placed on it. It wasn’t breaking, but rather a handy down from the last Inspector who unfortunately met his end with addiction to illegal substances.

As he settled in his chair, he viewed his desk already. Against the monitor was a worn-down early nineteen-nineties keyboard and mouse. It was suppose to be a state-of-the-art computer, but it was something he hardly used since he was always traveling to the crime scenes. On the middle of the desk was his name plate. It read his full name, underneath it his position in the department: _Johnathan ‘John’ West - North Beach Police Department Inspector_. He is not the only one, but he was one of the more hardworking individuals on the force. First thing is first, call up around on the eyewitness reports and begin the investigation. See if any other civilians may of seen this mad man.

Who knew what time it was inside of this seemingly dark room. It was around seven in the evening now, and the man frustrated himself. He was suppose to have dinner with his daughter for the time she’s there. Leaving all his files behind, he shrugged off any goodbyes, exited the building and went straight for his car. The station was a good ten to fifteen minutes away- depending on the traffic- from his apartment complex. He had hoped that when he pulled into the parking structure that her vehicle was still there. Looking for a particular vehicle, he found one parked in one of his two spots he owned. _She’s still here, that’s good_. Parking into the empty spot, he got out of his vehicle and went straight towards his home. When he unlocked the door, he saw the woman sitting on the couch, bundled up. Guess she never moved from where she was, huh? Watching a sitcom on the television, she had a bowl of food in her hands. From the looks of it, it appeared to be unsweetened cereal.

Clearing his throat, he pieced the words together carefully. He was frustrated that most of the phone calls lead to being prank calls from the kids who are pretending to be the murderer already. Nearly all of those were dismissed. _Goddamnit_ , running a hand through his hair he soon shut the door of the apartment. “Hey- I know we were suppose to have dinner. An-”

She didn’t say much but point towards the kitchen. She mentioned she had made something for him anyway, knowing already he wasn't even going to show up on time. Not going to bother and check what she made, instead he approached her. Making some space on the couch with a bunch of paper work, clothes and a bit of trash on top of it. He tried smiling, trying to say his thanks for the meal. But those aren’t the exact words that came out. Maybe they were too blunt, as he put his head down thinking about it over and over. The woman didn’t want to hear it sadly, she was more focused on the show she was watching. What she did do was pick up the remote controller for the television set, and placed the volume on a low hum, that way she can confront why the man he left this morning.

“I heard you leaving this morning, sometime after three but you were dressed like you were going to a club. What’s with that? You want to be apart of the college kids again?” Her tone wasn’t delicate, it was much more accusing than anything else. She turned towards her aging father, who didn’t look her in the eye. He was staring at his work of unsolved cases, head turned as he remembered minor facts about them. She didn’t like him, she didn’t have to like him. They may be related by blood, but she despises him for bringing all these problems between her and her mother.

“I was- I was working on another case. It was an emergency that required me to be undercover.” That’s a bold lie, but it had to be done. West couldn’t tell her what he was actually doing as he can’t remember. The voice inside his head is not present right now, and it couldn’t help him talk out of this situation.

She rolled her eyes, turning back to the television. Again, with the remote controller she had brought the volume back up to what it was. So that if he could be heard in his gruffly tone, he was drowned out with the background noise. John’s lost browns went back to his daughter. She was upset, but kept spooning small bites of her meal to her lips. She would chuckle once or twice, and that was the end of it. He lost this battle, again. There’s not much to do now but to eat the meal she prepared, take the bottle of half-empty whiskey sitting in the fridge. Lock himself in his bedroom and stare endlessly at the darken walls.

It was another one of those nights, just like every night. It happens too often, and nothing really changes for the better.

* * *

 

Fast forward to three months later. It is early September, the first weekend of the new month. Children, adolescents, and adults are preparing to back to class. Regardless if they were obtaining their diplomas, their degrees and or associates, parties are still going on. It’s nearing three in the morning again, and John hasn't seen his daughter all day today. She was visiting once more from her friend’s home tonight.

The two had a rather vicious fight over the last few months when West became too intoxicated and that voice took over. A bottle was thrown to the wall in a fit of rage. He was pissed off, blaming all the stress from work since they couldn’t find their killer all these months. It’s been building up for years, and it was bound to come out in one way or another. He yelled at her violently, wanting to pin her to the ground- if he did so, he’d lose more than just her trust. John has no self-control in this stance. It takes over with ease. The voice struggles internally and the original owner loses the fight. It’s too much for West, having the voice control all his actions and words. He was blinded to what he actually was doing. She’s crying violently, screaming and yelling her way out. But he had silenced her with a makeshift muzzle- his hand on her mouth. Blaming the drinking and his crappy, severely stressful job over it. What she doesn’t understand is that he’s doing all of this for her, and just for her. This is something he can’t understand or ever explain to the woman. To let it out is probably the best way to deal with it. Bottling it up wouldn’t be a good thing as worse things could happen. She cried heavily, tears stained against her face in the dimly lit hallway of his apartment.

That’s when he was about to hit her with his hand, but punched the wall instead. It was to silence the screaming as she was able to free herself from John’s hand. He slammed his fist against the wall multiple times to get the noise to stop. If he dared hit the woman, he could lose it all. Everything dear and meaningful, all gone with one swift action- actually he isn’t losing anything to begin with. He already lost her because of the all the faults that has happened in his career and in his lifetime. It happened in a flash, and it wasn’t the first time. It’s been a few weeks since that incident.

She claimed she was going out to a party, dressed in clothing all the women her age group enjoyed. Low cuts, dark colors mixed in with a bright accessory such as a glorious crimson-colored belt, white wrist-length leather gloves, and or golden jewelry such as earrings or bracelet. She was going to a huge, local party that was next door by the apartment complex. The neon-green clock changed to three-oh-five in the morning. She told her father she’ll be spending the night at her friend’s home if it gets too late.

The bright lights are back again, just like months ago. This party was different from the one from month ago. So many voices, so much laughter and items being broken. The music’s beats waved in and out, and they were vibrating the walls again. John sat up from where he was, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted some sleep, and the only way to get this sleep was to press the mute button at the party permanently.

* * *

 

He stared out the window again, naked as the day he was born. Clean shaven and the shadows covered his facial features. He traced his steps just like the last time. He went over to his oak dresser and picked up the mask again. Placing it on almost immediately, he walked quietly to his closet picking out the same clothes. They’ve been washed from the last encountered, fresh and ready to see the graces of flashing neon lights, individuals puking and the sounds of a couple having their time in the spotlight away from the main attraction. He stared at himself in a mirror hanging by his front door. It was a wooden frame that had five small hooks to hang up keys. He couldn’t see his expression, but he saw fire in those eyes. He wasn’t John tonight. He was someone else.

Outside of his apartment, he had his weapon in his sleeve again. He was ready to begin the body count on the ground level of the complex. Heading towards a fence separating the area from other residential homes, he did it elegantly and swiftly. Marching along the sidewalk again, he could see this party was only two houses away. Perfect. There’s at least seventy individuals here. Seventy will be added to his count. Best of all, he’s played with this demon before, and gave him a name way back in his youth. A man of few words, a voice of his own. His name? _Darius_.

He must of arrived at the home not too long after hopping over that fence. He peered around through the eye socket holes of his mask. Darius was standing outside by the home, under a lamppost. There’s several individuals outside already, some hanging by a trash can fire. Typical teenagers. The masked man walked passed them, with some of them making comments about his wardrobe. A single small window shoved light straight into his face. With something that small, it had to of been the kitchen. Front doors of the home are opened and welcoming those while the beat of the music exited out in return. Whoever owned this home, they may of been out of town. Parties like these aren’t frequent and it isn’t unusual to see a herd of teenagers mixed in with college students roam inside and out. Mom and Dad are going to get a lovely complaint when they return. The music mixed in laughter, with those pointing to their friends who had a little too much to drink or remembering inside jokes from the past.

Darius wasn’t going to attack yet, he kept his eyes peeled for someone vulnerable. Somebody who is singled out, who doesn’t know where they are and can’t understand why they’re at the party in the first place. Before adventuring onwards towards the inside of the one-story home, he completed his check of the front area. There’s more folks here right by the front doors. Two of them already passed out. Funny enough, one of them holding a bottle of booze out. It may of fallen out of their hands, as it left a nasty trail of liquids down towards the sidewalk. Taking delicate steps over this in case his footing may get discovered, he saw another lamppost, and a random golf cart. The cart all gray and emptied. Some of these teens may need a taxi ride home, seeing how they’re still partying in the early morning hours. Hopefully they aren’t using this one as the police are going to have a grand time arresting everyone for driving this damn thing. Wonder if it functions?

On the other side of the building, he can easily see a man inside a bedroom. There’s a computer sitting on a desk with the man having green hair. He’s too busy checking out materials on their screen on a monitor that’s a few years old, oblivious to what’s going on. Weird how someone would bring their setup to a party, but with college students going into technology-advanced careers and teenagers struggling to achieve those same dreams, it doesn’t surprise Darius. That man would be a perfect target to section out first. Checking out the other side rather quickly, there’s two trees sitting in a patch of grass surrounded by a border of rocks, and a few more men passed out. They won’t be able to scream or react in time compared to those still awake. He’ll get those first. Beyond that, he could see a dumpster on the right side against a fence, and a sheet behind one of them. There was light banging against the behemoth of a trash can. The hollowness that rang from it when a elbow made contact meant there was a couple having a bit too much fun for their own good. Start here, perhaps? _Then move onto the inside and get the rest_. There’s probably a lot more inside, anyway. The music thumped against the walls, making it loud and clear that the party is alive and not going to stop any time soon.

The masked one checked his sleeve, making sure his weapon was on him. The weapon of purification was in his grasp, only have to need it to slide down his sleeve to end timelines of strangers he barely exchanged words with. He made his way towards the back end of the lot nearing the dumpster close to the blanket. Creeping up to the side of it, he could hear vivid imagery, hums of attraction and skin clapping against one another. There’s groaning, but of pleasurable aspects, Darius wasn’t there to listen to the birds sing with the bees. Banishing his blade into his right hand, he nodded to himself- the mask following his gestures. There, he brought the fear of others within his strikes.

_One. And two_. The victims screamed and thanks to the loudness of the beats of the current house track going on, nobody was able to hear them. They fell helplessly against the surface of the Earth, blood trickling down from where Darius had made contact with them. From their necks to their wrists, and lastly, their backs. They weren’t going to come back from this alive, and if they did, their faces wouldn’t be the same. He carved in a deep ‘X’ mark into them. The mark to signal his kill count so far. He’ll figure out a mark to leave later on. If John was awake in his mind, it wasn’t holding him back not one bit.

Two windows are on the side of the building, there’s about four people in one room towards the back of the home. And another window indication a second room. There's a bunch of men inside. Darius wiped away any blood splattered on his person to his pants, approaching the second room. He could see briefcases, and a deal that seems to be going out of hand. It wasn’t for him to investigate here- it wasn’t in the job description. He cleansed the two fallen souls by against the wall with a slash to the throat. One of them waking up and getting a glimpse of the man who did it. But it was too late, the life faded from their bodies each and every second after.

Four down, so many more to go. He enjoyed this kick more than he really should of. He smirked under his mask, and made his way back towards the front of the junkie’s home. Who would've known that this place would of been the next biggest party around the area? The authorities do have tabs on this home but as of recently, they have done anything that was deemed illegal. Sure, they may have substances in their system but it wasn’t enough for the force to come down on them. Unsurprisingly, there’s plenty of squatters in the city so they may be using this place as their own. Oh well. The closer the masked one got closer to the steps before the home, the music’s magical, powerful beats pushed through anyone who dared to penetrate the area.

Once up and inside, there was plenty of bodies. All of them resulting in different sizes, performing different activities while the main living room was used as a dance floor. Men and women dressed in all sorts of outfits are dancing to the beat of the sounds. The DJ, which. … There seemed to be one. _Good_ , thought the man, he’ll be a wonderful distraction. Was in the very back spinning his records and creating the heart of the party. Darius looked around, seeing everyone enjoying themselves in the moment. As he stepped closer into the dance floor part of the room. There was a sofa to his right, food and drinks to his left. And even more passed out individuals, he can lie easily. Saying that they’re friends and that he’s taking them ‘home’. It’ll work, most of them are drunk.

Decoration on the walls are bare, and if there are some they had spirits of alcoholic drinks splattered all over. There’s a poster here, some writing on the wall there. It didn’t compliment the place at all. An obvious sign that nobody would even given a damn of this place was burned down. The firefighters of the city work differently than the police, so perhaps. They might of cared a bit more, regardless of what they chose. Flashing, raven-colored balls with colorful holes carved into them gave life to those who are intoxicated making them want to dance and ignore the world for just one night. It must be great to be twenty-one again in this time and age.

“Oh shit, that’s the cops!” Said a voice behind Darius. He turned around rather quickly when two policemen pulled up, excited their vehicles and ran passed the hoards of people. They even ran passed the murderer- which he was sure they got a good stare of who he is. Whatever, it doesn’t matter, he wasn’t going to do anything while they were here. The two officers turned right, pushing the doors opened quite violently. Immediately, the authorities pulled out their batons and began to hit those involved. Claiming they’re under arrest for illegal substances thanks to some tips from a few of the party-goers. Somehow, this didn't stop the party from going on. In fact, some of the men and women cheered on the two cops as they handcuffed the three broad-like men and four gangsters associated with the local drug trafficking that’s been occurring more and more frequently. Who knew that North Beach had gangs?

The man didn’t really do much, just kept staring on until someone bumped into him. He didn’t make a sound but it appeared to be a woman that had accidentally walked into him. She apologized, reaching for the man’s right hand when he shifted it away from her. _No, not that one_. She can’t discover what he does so soon. Who knew if these kids watched the local news or read the papers. Confused, she turned to see the man had on a mask, her face seemed puzzled but tone was mocking. “I didn’t know it was a masquerade.” In that time she had bothered him, the authorities had pulled the criminals away from the party for good.

Shaking his head, the masked one walked away from her. The woman stared on with her hands folded when someone came to her side. Probably a friend of her’s. She pointed out the man, but her friends tell her not to worry about it- he could be some kind that’s visiting from out of town. It’s strange, she was wearing clothing similar to what his daughter might of worn if she were going out for the night. It’s not her, she knows better not to be caught here. John’s co-workers can only hold the truth out for so long until something bad happens. After that, she’s on her own. For being held in cuffs plenty of times because of the curfew the city had in place for minors. She was always meant to have a watchful eye over.

The authorities were only there for ten minutes. And when the room they were in emptied out, the party changed directions. No less than eight people went into the room to hide from the excessive noise. Darius decided to follow on, as he looked around carefully. He numbered individuals in his mind, labeling them and giving them silly names- _‘Shirt, Sleeves, No-Pants’_ to name a few. Some of them not even making any sense. But it made all the sense to him. Most of the party goers weren’t discouraged by the man in the mask. In truth, some of them actually wanted to dance with him. If this is what it was going to take to purify them, guess it’ll do the work.

Being pulled into the main room again by one of the men he had given a temporary name, he looked around. It was actually a good thing to see these people have the time of their life while the music played. Some had drinks in their hands, and most of them had a unique style to their dancing. It was different, could it be refreshing? Darius held onto his knife, making sure it doesn’t make contact with people yet. If it did, it meant several life-long sentences in jail. Perhaps in another life time he’ll face that. But now, he’s doing something else. Letting the music get to him, the murderer sprung his arms up marching along to the beat on his own drum. Some of the folks stopped for a moment, questioning him loud enough that he could hear them complain about his style. Quite a few of them said to continue on partying. And they did. Darius controlled his form to match with the individuals, having no real expression on those facial features. When one of them slipped away for whatever possible reason it could be, he was going to be right behind them.

The dancing itself from the murderer didn’t last too long. He wasn’t looking to waste so much time. The party is going to end when the sun comes up, he knows that. Then, most of the children were going to be waiting around to get home after vomiting a good once or twice. Sometimes five if they mixed their drinks with some deadly substances or medication. There isn’t a high from drinking purely alcohol anymore, and these kids wanted more. Unfortunate.

Darius was going to go into the room where the drug deal was occurring when he noticed a couple walking passed him going in the other direction. The kitchen area, that’ll be decent for him to get some assuming the place still had running water and gas. Turning in his heels, he went to follow them. They had opened the doors for him already and there, he could see everything. It was a plain sight in all honestly. A kitchen with two tables and drinks all set up, and a punch bowl that had a flew flies circling around it. Not here to grab any drinks or even eat any of the food, he had some ideas with it. There should be a bathroom here somewhere that he could mix chemicals. …

Once more, he was bumped into by a drunken moron who had nothing better to do than spill his drink all on the man’s shoulder. The masked one is slightly taller than the average man in this country, so he was understandably a bit upset by this. The drunken stranger didn’t do much but stare at the guy in the mask, laughing to himself. He tried to go and pick up the mask from the murderer and instead was greeted with a hand quickly clutching his and throwing it down. There, the man didn’t like, and wanted a fight with the masked one. Easy. Darius had no idea what were beyond the two other rooms to the side of him or the one before him. So he picked the closest door available. While the other may not be interested in following him, the mood-killer was. He dragged the stranger by his collar into room. It was a bathroom, huh.

But, it only had a toilet inside of it. Strange, but it works. Darius threw his victim forward and as expected, he drunkenly stumbled towards the porcelain throne. Catching himself moments before an accident could occur, he wasn’t happy anymore. He turned towards the man donned in blue. The bathroom itself is filthy, and probably has seen better days. The aging wallpaper wanted to peel away from the changing climates, and it appears that the bathroom hasn’t been washed in more than a year. This home is disgusting, and needs to be put to rest. Just like that, there was a punch towards the masked one’s jawline.

Damn, that stranger had struck him well, knocking the murderer backwards towards the door. The door is closed, and all that could be heard was ear-piercing music that would become louder with some songs played. The victim stumbled towards Darius, and wanted more by throwing himself forward and getting his target straight in his stupid face.

That was a mistake. Producing a blade from his sleeve, the murderer gracefully cured another unfortunate soul. The blade went for the more vital parts of the human body, striking forward and causing his victim to crumble in the pain. He was achy, and crimson drew rather quickly. Darius smiled, going towards the neck area to finish the job.

Within seconds, the victim had fallen into a pool of their crimson, probably piss and some kind of used substance, too. He was gone- no noise or any movement. The act in this play is performed flawlessly, and he still had a crowd to entertain. It wouldn’t be long anyway until the disk jockey continues to play the same song, stuck on repeat with the beat playing over and over. Oh no, it shouldn’t take too long. Darius made he marked everyone, and would eventually mark his disappearance

* * *

 

John slips back home quietly, going straight to his private bathroom to clean himself. The mask was in his hands, but he had tossed it carelessly to the floor of the bathroom making sure it had landed on the rug available. He couldn’t understand why he did that himself, but it didn’t bug him much. Locking the door, he turned the cold water. The clear liquid fell at a rapid descend, and there was the Inspector cupping his two hands together to make a bowl to catch it. Splashing himself with it, he could hear his home phone ringing again. What? Already? Something here is strange but what could it be? In the distance, the music that was once playing had been turned down, or turned off.

Unlocking the door, the Inspector stepped out and flickered on the lights in his living room. There’s no woman here, so she must of spent the night at her friend’s. John dashed for the phone, droplets of water falling from his facial features, unto his stained blue shirt. He picked it up the device, stating his name and role. It was a co-worker informing him to hurry up and arrive to an address provided. There’s been another mass murder, probably from the same man from a different party from months ago. He agreed, replying that he’ll be there as soon as possible. The faster he gets there, the quicker they can arrest this man and give him his life sentences.


End file.
